


The Safeword Is Proudwing

by aunt_zelda



Series: Chataya's Exchange (AU) [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Prostitution, BDSM, Caning, Dom/sub, Dom/sub Play, F/M, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Professional Dom, Restraints, Sex Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-22
Updated: 2014-06-22
Packaged: 2018-02-05 20:10:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1830790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aunt_zelda/pseuds/aunt_zelda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stressed at work and busy running his brother Robert's tech company, CFO Stannis takes the advice of his ex-girlfriend Mel and tries to find some stress relief. </p><p>After hours online at useless dating websites, he finds exactly what he needs: Chataya's Exchange, a discreet establishment where he can go and have his desires satisfied ... within the bounds of legality of course. Sex is off the table, this is not a brothel. </p><p>Caning, however ... that's allowed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Safeword Is Proudwing

**Author's Note:**

> So I got an idea into my head about Stannis as a repressed and stressed executive, and as those types are wont to do, he goes to a professional dom and gets spanked on his lunch breaks. By Davos, the world's most unlikely professional dom.  
>  ~~Who am I kidding, spank me and call me a good girl, Liam Cunningham, and then cuddle me afterwards. Who wouldn't pay for that sweet jesus.~~
> 
> I rambled about this on my tumblr and people ... freaked out, and wanted it. It was really surprising to me. Stannis is SO that TYPE, has no one else made this connection yet? Really?  
> So I started writing and I spent all of yesterday basically working on it and it turned into this huge fic and I hope people like it because people really really wanted it and I hope I did not disappoint. 
> 
>  
> 
> I had difficulty with the tags, some are not entirely applicable. Is this really "alternate universe - prostitution" if Davos is not technically a prostitute? And the definition of "sex work" varies depending on who you ask. If anyone has suggestions on better/more accurate tags, please let me know, as it stands those are the best I could figure out. 
> 
> Not sure whether to add the pairing tag for Melisandre/Stannis or not, their relationship is in the past but it is alluded to.

Stannis was going to murder Robert.

It was bad enough that his brother routinely arrived at the office drunk, hungover, or both. Bad enough that he was in the tabloids every other week with a new college girl hanging off of his arm. Bad enough that the last meaningful contribution to the company had been in 1997, when he’d strong-armed the Targareyns into selling off their stocks and patents and leaving the country, their stranglehold on American markets broken forever. 

But those had been the glory days. Now, Stannis was standing in front of a room full of representatives from international companies, trying to pitch Baratheon Inc. as a credible investment worthy of their time. 

The CEO of Baratheon Inc. was nowhere to be found. And Renly, the beloved, charismatic, charming Chief of Operations, who had once convinced the Japanese reps to sign a deal Stannis had spent months bargaining over, Renly was also conspicuously absent. It made the company look weak. It made Stannis look like a fool who couldn’t even handle his duties as CFO. It alienated potential shareholders. 

It was a disaster. 

Stannis fumed the rest of the day, glaring at the clock and grinding his teeth. His administrative assistant shot him concerned looks before Stannis got up and slammed the door. He didn’t need pity right now: he needed Robert’s head on a platter. Or, better yet, Robert’s letter of resignation. 

Not that either was likely to happen. Robert loved the paychecks, and the army of lawyers, and the prestige of being a CEO, even though the duties themselves were becoming less and less important to him. 

Worse, he had mastered the art of doing just enough work to avoid the Board of Directors ousting him in favor of someone more suitable for the position. Stannis held no illusions about who that would be: Renly was the favorite, everyone knew it, even though Stannis had been doing the dirty work and covering for Robert all through the early 2000s. No, Stannis had risen as high as it was possible for him to climb. An impenetrable wall blocked him from further progress. 

Lunch rolled around, and Stannis kept working. His stomach was still roiling at the memories of all those faces staring at him, judging him, deeming him less important than Robert and thus unworthy of their precious time. 

“Knock knock?” a redhead poked around his door. “Your secretary is giving me the danger signal, what happened?”

“Administrative assistant,” Stannis said automatically. It had taken him months to get it right; he wasn’t about to slip up again. “Come in, Mel, if you must.”

“I must,” Melisandre said, shutting the door behind herself and sitting down across from Stannis. She had a large insulated bag on her lap, which she began to unpack, placing various food containers on Stannis’ desk. “Have you eaten? Let me answer for you: ‘No. I am fine, Mel. There is nothing wrong, Mel. Can’t a man not-eat in peace?’” Melisandre smiled slowly and opened a container of rice. 

“I am fine, Mel.” Stannis glowered. 

Mel ate in silence and pushed another container of rice meaningfully towards Stannis.

Stannis reluctantly picked it up and began drizzling salad dressing onto the rice and vegetables. “The international meeting was today. Robert was … conspicuously absent. As was Renly.”

Mel nodded. 

They ate in silence as Stannis slowly told her everything, every humiliating second. 

“You’re so tense, Stannis, my god,” Mel had since circled around his chair to collect her tuperware containers. She put a hand on Stannis’ shoulder, pressing down and feeling the knots. 

“I’m under so much pressure … Robert’s not getting better, if anything he’s been getting worse. Renly spends so much time at Highgarden Global it’s a wonder he isn’t getting their healthcare benefits, Cersei’s threatening to divorce, again, and … and …” Stannis sighed heavily, burying his face in his hands. 

“And it’s not as if you can escape at home, your family and the company are one in the same,” Melisandre was rubbing Stannis’ shoulders now. It felt appallingly good. 

Stannis muffled a moan against his hand. It had been a long time since anyone had touched him intimately. Robert’s slaps on the back and Renly’s quick-for-the-cameras hugs were hardly worth mentioning. And since Shireen’s mother had moved back out West to be with her family, his visits with his daughter had been reduced to twice a year, Christmas and her birthday, if he was able. 

“Is this awkward?” Melisandre asked, both her hands kneading Stannis’ shoulders. She paused, and started to draw back.

“No … no it’s … fine.” Stannis managed. 

Melisandre continued, massaging the tension from his neck and shoulders and best she could. “You need something to help you relax, Stannis, a hobby, a club, something. When was the last time you did something just for yourself, not for the company, or Robert, for yourself?”

Stannis though, long and hard. He couldn’t honestly remember. 

“See? Go out this weekend, find a bar, buy a woman a drink. What’s the worst that could happen?” Melisandre gave one final intense press between his shoulderblades and returned to her chair. “I’d ask you out myself, but we all know how that went last time.” Melisandre smiled thinly, glancing away so as to not meet Stannis’ eyes. 

The Christmas party had been a dreadful thing. Too much booze, too many interns, and Robert roaring with laughter loud enough to make the fluorescent lights shake. Blinded by tinsel and strobe lights, Stannis had sought refuge down the hall, and stumbled into Mel and a cluster of her fellow marketing agents. The others had cheered and pointed up at the sprig of mistletoe, and after getting a nod from Mel, Stannis had gone ahead and kissed her. 

The kiss had led to another, and another, and calling a cab because neither of them was in a fit state to drive, and a night that ended with Stannis tangled in Mel’s red sheets and Mel fishing out a packet of cigarettes at 3am. 

The ‘affair,’ such as it was, had only lasted a month or so. The breakup had been a mutual one, but Stannis was never entirely certain how honest Mel had been about that. She was a difficult person to read, and as head of marketing she’d spent years perfecting the art of saying one thing and meaning something else entirely. 

“I’m not overly fond of bars.” Stannis admitted.

Mel shrugged. “Internet, then? Plenty of divorcees out there.”

Stannis couldn’t hold back his sneer.

Mel glared. “I found my girlfriend on the internet. It’s a perfectly reasonable place to find love.” Mel titled her head slightly. “Or … companionship?” She grinned lasciviously. 

Stannis sighed heavily. “Out. Get out.” There was no force behind his words, no malice in his glare. 

Mel took her lunch containers and waved as she departed. “Think about it, Stannis! Stress relief is a wonderful thing!”

Stannis noticed his administrative assistant eyeing him and Mel suspiciously, before hurriedly going back to her book. He didn’t concern himself with whatever she thought of him, he and Mel were over; it was obvious to anyone who’d cared to notice in the first place. 

Stannis worked, and kept feeling the draw to google, Mel’s words on his mind. He shook himself, and pressed onwards. The workplace was not a suitable place to start making profiles on dating websites. 

~*~

Stannis had long since turned off the evening news, and he was no closer to finding his avenue of attack than he had been three hours ago. Dating site after dating site was inspected and rejected. The algorithms meant judge compatibility were all rubbish, the success stories were overwhelmed with disappointed customers, and the array of women on display had outdated profile pictures and atrocious spelling in their profiles. 

Stannis reconsidered his goals. Did he have time for a sustained relationship right now? With the international meeting and array of investors, he’d likely be staying late at the office until summer, and even then he held erratic hours. Perhaps a relationship was not what he was seeking after all. His memories of dating before his marriage were a blur of awkward dinners in loud restaurants, crowded bars, and dull movies. As a young man, Stannis had managed to put up with the pattern until it led to a marriage. Now, he doubted he would have the patience for the routine all over again. 

Stannis began to search for different websites. “Escort” services masquerading as legitimate businesses, reviews online from anonymous clients about the quality of the employees. 

It was just past midnight when Stannis found what he’d been looking for, though he hadn’t known until that moment. 

It was a sleek, reserved website. There were no flashing images or advertisements for porn sites on the sidebars. Everything was printed in legible text, without a spelling error in sight. And, most promisingly, there was an entire page outlining the legality of the services offered and the contact information of a lawyer to assist in clearing up any further confusion. 

Chataya’s Exchange. It could have been mistaken for an investment firm. 

Stannis read through the FAQ section, nodding in approval at the clear and concise explanations which outlining of what was and was not permitted on premises. He looked over the application for clients, emailed it to himself, and went to sleep. 

~*~

That call had come within three days, as promised by the website. Stannis had admired their promptness; had they been another technology company he’d have made moves to acquire their stock. 

He had been a little taken aback that he could book an appointment so soon. Within a mere four days of the phone call, Stannis was sitting in the waiting room of Chataya’s Exchange during his lunch break, stiff-backed and pointedly not making eye contact with anyone else. 

Stannis was beginning to have doubts. This had all happened rather quickly; it was unlike him to be so impulsive as to fill out an application in a day and send it off to a so-called dungeon. He’d never done anything like this, the closest he’d ever been to something of this nature had been the amateur porn he clicked through on his loneliest of nights, and even then the orgasms only staved off the overwhelming sense of shame. 

Movement out of the corner of his eye made Stannis turn slightly. 

A woman in tight black slacks, tall leather boots, and an ornate corset strode into the lobby. She headed for a young man, wide-eyed and staring at her with a mixture of naked lust and worshipful devotion. 

The woman beckoned with a finger. The young man nearly tripped over himself in his haste to obey. She led him off down a hallway and out of sight. 

Stannis felt his ears burning red. This wasn’t the place for him. The pair had been young, attractive, and kinky yes but young enough to be experimenting. Stannis might have come to this kind of place in his youth, and had a few years of fun, but apparently he had missed that boat. 

He had two options: sneak out hurriedly, or inform the receptionist that he was cancelling his appointment. 

As he was debating with himself, Stannis completely missed the arrival of a new person in the lobby. 

“Stannis?”

Stannis looked up. A man was standing before him. Average height, squared shoulders, a graying beard and moustache clipped close to his face, and a receding hairline that was just as gray. The man wasn’t wearing leather or latex that Stannis could see. He might have walked past this man on the street and not taken notice. 

“Yes.” Stannis said. He stood up and offered his hand. 

The man smiled. “Davos.” He shook Stannis’ offered hand. 

Stannis felt the calluses before contact was broken.

“Shall we?” Davos nodded down the hallway. 

“Yes.” Stannis managed not to gulp. It was a near thing, but a victory nevertheless. He followed Davos down the hallway. 

~*~

“So,” Davos sank down onto a dark red couch that looked to be fake-leather in make. “You were very direct in your application, thanks for that, clears up a lot of the usual questions. Has anything changed between then and now?” 

“No.” Stannis sat on a wooden armchair. There was ample room beside Davos on the couch, but he did not feel comfortable invading the man’s personal space before they had officially begun. He glanced around the area: small, devoid of clutter, a place to meet with clients that was private, but not a private room. 

“Ok. Any expectations for today’s session? Specific things you’d like to do, things you’d rather I avoided?”

“I …” Stannis swallowed. He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but it hadn’t been this. His mind went horribly blank and white and silent. 

Davos seemed to sense his panic. “Let me try a different track. Any recent injuries I should know about? Old injuries I should tread carefully around?”

Stannis shook his head. “No.” Robert had been the one injured crowdsurfing in high school, Renly had been the one laid up in the hospital covered in casts from a skiing accident in the Alps. 

“Would you rather avoid visible marks?”

Stannis felt his face heating up. He ignored it. “I’d prefer to … have some. So long as they’re not on my hands or face. Or up to … ah, about here?” Stannis held his hand against his throat, demonstrating the area he could hide with a high collared shirt at the office if need be. 

Davos nodded, eyes focusing on Stannis’ throat momentarily before snapping back up to meet Stannis’. “How high would you say your pain tolerance is?”

“I honestly have no idea. I … I want to be … hurt.” Stannis felt a surge of relief at finally admitting it aloud. Typing responses into a PDF form was one thing, this was … something else entirely. 

“Safeword?” Davos asked promptly. “Unless you’d rather go for the standard ‘green, yellow, red’ …”

“Proudwing.” Stannis had thought about this. “‘Proudwing’ for stop. And the … the colors, for simplicity’s sake.”

“Noted.” Davos leaned back against the couch, one arm draped over the back. “Now, you said you wanted to be hurt. Tell me more about that.”

Stannis sighed heavily. “I … my work is very … that is … I am under a great deal of pressure and responsibility. I wish to forget … that. I want to … let go. And I believe a certain degree of applied pain would aid me in that regard.”

Davos nodded. “It might. It has done, for people before. Would you rather plan something out now, and postpone the session until a later date, or do you feel comfortable starting today?”

“Today.” Stannis said it quickly, far too quickly, and cringed. “I … yes. That would be … my preference.” 

Davos grinned. “We’ll start slow, if you like. This being your first time, and all.”

Stannis bristled, but tried to reign himself in. It would be counterproductive to enter into this with fresh frustration simmering under the surface. 

~*~

The room was not as small as he had feared it might be, but neither was it cavernous. The word ‘dungeon’ did not conjure the appropriate image. True, there were no windows, but the walls were painted a shade of greenish-blue that reminded Stannis of the ocean. It struck him as an odd choice, considering the activities that took place inside the room. However, when Davos dimmed the lights slightly, the walls took on a darker coloring and it somehow worked. 

The room was slightly warmer than the sitting room had been, by a noticeable degree. There were several specific items of furniture scattered about the room. Stannis noted a network of metal grid on the ceiling, and a black curtain in one corner half-concealing several long chains and slings attached to the grid. He could see how they were dragged out when needed, from the marks on the metal at various locations above him. A dark wooden cabinet was set against one of the walls, large drawers with no labels. A mirror was set in another corner, covered at the moment by a greenish-blue swathe of cloth that nearly matched the walls. 

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Davos smirked, but there was an edge to it now, and to his tone, something that hadn’t been there before. “Get your kit off.”

Stannis blinked. 

“You heard me.” Davos crossed his arms. “Or do you want to find out what happens when I have to ask twice?”

Stannis did, but that could come later, for now he wanted to obey and see how far this went. He shrugged off his jacket and hung it on a nearby chair. Then he began to unbutton his shirt, glancing up at Davos and then back down again.

“If I wanted a show, I would have asked for one. Hurry it up.” Davos snapped when Stannis was only halfway done with his shirt buttons.

Stannis hurriedly finished with the shirt and draped it over his jacket. His undershirt quickly followed. 

He paused with the buckle to his belt. The website had been very clear that no sex took place in the rooms, but removing his belt was something he had not done in front of another person since Melisandre. It was a significant step.

Davos nodded at him curtly.

Stannis unbuckled his belt and drew it off quickly, before he lost his nerve. He unzipped his pants and stepped out of them as well.

His shoes presented a bit of a dilemma. Stannis crouched down to unlace them, but as he straightened up to get back on his feet, Davos was behind him, and pushed him back down. Stannis threw out a hand to steady himself, palm pressed flat against the floor.

“Take off your shoes and socks. That should be enough for now.”

Stannis did as he was told. He crawled over to the chair and set his shoes and socks with the rest of his clothes. The warmth of the room suddenly made more sense to him, as it was, after all, frequented by people in very little clothing. 

“Good boy,” Davos murmured.

Stannis was surprised by the jolt that went down his spine in response to those words. Surprised, and oddly validated. 

“Don’t get cocky,” Davos warned. “Plenty of time for you to fuck up. We’re just getting started.”

Stannis stared up at Davos, acutely aware of his near-nakedness. Davos hadn’t even rolled up the sleeves of his shirt.

Without warning, Davos grabbed Stannis by the hair – quite impressive considering Stannis kept his hair rather short – and dragged him across the room. Stannis scrambled to keep up, eyes watering as his scalp twinged. 

Davos was stronger than he looked. He hauled Stannis up and flung him over a piece of furniture Stannis only got a brief glance at. It was curved and upholstered in black leather. There was a lower piece for his knees to rest on, at least. 

As Stannis was getting his bearings, Davos was setting about locking him into place. First wrist cuffs, soft leather and well made by the feel of them, binding Stannis’ arms to the furniture, then ankle cuffs as well. 

“Do you know what this is?” Davos asked.

“No.”

“‘No,’ what?” Davos yanked on Stannis’ hair, hard. 

“No … sir.” Stannis felt a trace of the tension leave him.

“This is a spanking bench. Now, since you were such a good boy getting your clothes off quick for me, I’m going to let you pick which toy I use on you.”

Stannis’ breath caught in his throat. 

He heard Davos opening the drawers and selecting items. Bound as he was, Stannis could only listen. The back of his neck prickled with anticipation. Despite the warmth, there were goosebumps on his arms. 

“Paddle?” Davos called out.

“N-no thank you, sir.” Those brought back memories of disgusting college fraternity parties, parties that Robert had dragged him to. Bacchanalias of beer, women in little clothing, and men who all sounded like Robert. 

“Flogger?” Davos snapped it in the air. It sounded intriguing, but Stannis decided to try it at a later session. 

“No thank you, sir.”

“Cane?”

Stannis considered it. He remembered one of his suitemates in college, an English boy who’d regaled them with horror stories about his schooling back home, his time in strict establishments that still used corporeal punishment. He had probably been lying, as most of his stories seemed to feature girls in short skirts being bent over the headmaster’s desk, but the image had stuck with Stannis. 

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes sir, please.” Stannis gulped. 

“So polite … and yet you’re in this state …” Davos circled around Stannis, turning the cane in his hands. It was thicker than Stannis had expected, a pale wood spotless of any imperfections. 

Stannis felt a sudden stab of panic. He could end this, now. He could yell out his safeword and Davos would untie him and he could be out of the door in ten minutes. 

But … no. Stannis wanted to see this play out. He wanted to feel this play out. Stannis breathed in, and out, slowly, and calmed himself. 

“Now then …” Davos made a ‘hmmm’ noise. “I was going to leave you with a bit of a barrier, but I think I’d rather put proper marks on you.”

Stannis held his breath and bit his tongue as he felt his underwear being pulled down. The fabric slid down around his bent knees and Stannis tensed, completely exposed. As far as he was aware, Davos was still completely clothed. Stannis had never been this naked, in every sense of the word. It was more than a little frightening. 

“Do you think you need a condom, or can you hold yourself together?”

Stannis knew he was aroused, though it hadn’t been at the forefront of his mind until now. Could he hold back? Perhaps. Did he want to find out what would happen if he couldn’t? Absolutely. 

Stannis nodded. “I’m … fine … sir.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” Davos had a bit of a growl in his tone. “Make a mess over my nice clean floor and I’ll make you lick it up.”

Stannis couldn’t stifle a whimper at that. Davos hadn’t done anything with the cane yet and Stannis was already lost. 

“You corporate lads are all the same,” Davos chuckled, “ruthless with other people’s lives, but when it’s your arse on the line, suddenly you’re squeamish.” Davos twirled the cane in the air and let is land softly against the back of Stannis’ thighs, testing his distance.

Stannis shuddered. 

“I expect you to count. And I’ll add three for every mistake.” 

The cane struck, sudden and stinging. Stannis yelped in shock, pain lacing through him.

“That’s a mistake right there,” Davos commented idly. “Let’s start again.”

Stannis tensed, and managed to stay silent through the next blow. “Whuh-one.”

“There we are.” Davos brought the cane down again, across the tops of Stannis’ thighs. 

The hiss of pain Stannis let loose seemed to amuse Davos. 

“Two!” Stannis gripped the spanking bench with his fingers. 

By the time Stannis was choking out “Twelve!” his face was wet. So, embarrassingly, was his cock, but he hadn’t come yet. He’d managed to hold off, though it had gotten increasingly difficult. 

“Close now … think you can manage fifteen?”

“Yes … sir … please …” Stannis gripped the spanking bench with white-knuckled hands. He was faintly certain that there was blood dripping down his legs, but that could have just been his imagination. 

“Already crying and still you want more punishment. Well, I can oblige you there …” Davos struck, harder than ever, across a spot he had previously hit. 

Stannis gritted his teeth and tried to hold back, but he couldn’t help but groan as he spat out “Th-thirteen!”

“And there …” Davos sliced through the air diagonally with the cane.

Stannis’ back arched, as well as it could, with him bound to the bench. “Fourteen!” 

“And … there …” the last strike was the hardest of all. 

Stannis’ vision swam briefly. “F-fifteen … oh gods …” 

Davos circled around him. “Aren’t you a sight. Here.” He held up the cane, which indeed had a few faint red patches along its wood. “Kiss.”

Stannis did as he was told. 

“Good boy.” Davos set the cane in a plastic container by the door, presumably to be cleaned later. “In fact, you were so good, I think you’ve earned yourself a proper reward.”

Stannis blinked, eyes still slightly blurred from the tears. 

Davos undid Stannis’ right wrist cuff. “I’m going to wait over there, and get a condom for you. If you free yourself, and crawl over to me, in less than five minutes, you get to come.”

Stannis stared at Davos.

“And your time starts … now.” Davos smirked and sauntered over to the dresser. 

Stannis fumbled with the other wrist cuff. He wasted precious seconds loosening the straps. Then he moved onto the ankle cuffs, which were more difficult to loosen, legs wrenched back as they were and his hands still shaking and his ass and upper thighs stinging and burning with pain. 

“One minute …” Davos called out. 

Stannis was certain it had not taken him that long. His legs tangled in his underwear and he kicked it off. He scrambled over the floor on hands and knees, hurrying towards Davos. 

“Just in the nick of time,” Davos chuckled. “Here you go.” He dropped a square packet onto the floor. 

Stannis grabbed it, opened it, and slid the condom on. He paused, glancing up at Davos for permission.

“I told you, you earned it.” Davos smiled warmly. “Go ahead.”

Stannis didn’t hesitate. He stroked himself, fast, rough, trying to remember the rhythm of the faster parts of his caning. Stannis did not glance down, or at the greenish-blue walls, or up at the ceiling. He locked eyes with Davos and came faster than he had in years. 

Stannis slumped on the floor, ignoring the pain. He accepted the wet wipes from Davos, and threw them away, along with the condom, into the offered wastebasket. 

Then, Stannis tried to stand up, thinking vaguely of his clothes. His head swam and he staggered, half tripping over his own feet. 

 

“Whoa! Whoa ... easy, easy now … I’ve got you.” Davos guided him to the floor and helped him to lean against the wall. 

Stannis was shivering uncontrollably. He gasped, throat dry and tight. 

“Shhhhhh …” Davos pulled a bottle of water from the dresser and opened it. “Drink this.”

Stannis did. He needed help holding the water steady. 

“Better?” Davos asked.

Stannis nodded. “Yes.” At least his throat didn’t feel so constricted anymore. 

“Stay right here for a minute. Sub-drop can be a bit nasty.”

The greenish-blue fabric that had hidden the mirror was now around Stannis’ shoulders. He was grateful for it, the warmth of the room didn’t seem to be touching him. Strangely, he was also grateful that Davos barely touched him. He felt overly sensitive, as if human contact would send him spiraling out of control. 

Once the shivering had abated and Stannis was breathing normally, Davos allowed him to stand up. Stannis collected his clothes and dressed, wincing as the fabric of his underwear and pants grazed over the marks from his caning. 

“I drew blood, you ought to get some salve for those tonight.” Davos rummaged in one of the drawers and pulled out a paper with a typed list of suggested brands of disinfectants.

“Thank you,” Stannis bit back the automatic ‘sir’ just in time. He put the paper in his pocket and shrugged on his jacket. 

“So, ah …” Davos stuck his hands in his pockets. “Everything to your satisfaction?”

Stannis felt his entire face turning red. He nodded hastily and looked away, mind filled with the recent memory of looking Davos in the eye when he came. 

“Good. Great. Um, do you know your way out or …?”

“I think I can manage.” Stannis attempted his usual stiff tone and failed. 

Davos opened the door. “Pleasure doing business with you,” he held out his hand again.

Stannis saw the apprehension, though Davos hid it quickly. Apparently, not many men were willing to shake Davos’ hand after a session, and Davos was bracing himself for Stannis to be no different. 

“Indeed,” Stannis shook Davos’ hand firmly, nodded, and left the room. 

No one was in the waiting room, which was a relief, Stannis had no desire for eye contact at the moment. Besides, he had the strangest desire to compare marks with another client, which would have been simply inappropriate.

Stannis called the office and informed his administrative assistant that he would be taking the rest of the day off. He needed the afternoon to settle himself, if he went back to the office now he wasn’t certain how he would react. 

~*~

Stannis arrived at the office at the same time that he always did. His administrative assistant gave no indications of noticing anything different about him; neither did any of his coworkers. 

Sitting down at his desk was a bit tricky. He managed to find a position that wasn’t painful, but it was awkward and difficult to maintain. Rather than being annoyed, Stannis found he quite enjoyed the twinges and aches as he squirmed in his office chair. They brought back memories of yesterday, and yesterday had been a pleasant experience that Stannis had no desire to forget. 

The day passed slowly, but he was in a good enough mood to brave the company cafeteria. He ate quickly, and alone, Mel was in an international skype conference and would be busy all afternoon. 

On his way back to his office, Stannis’ phone rang. This was surprising: nobody he knew would contact him via phone, they would either barge into his office or call him on his office line. 

Stannis stared at the phone when he saw the contact name: Chataya’s Exchange. Wild thoughts of blackmail and denied credit cards flooded his mind. Stannis took a deep breath and opened the message.

_You ok? You went pretty hardcore for a first timer. Let me know how sore you are, I can try less strikes next time._

Stannis felt his face reddening. He quickly ducked into his office and made sure the blinds were closed and the door locked. What was he supposed to say? Was it usual for a ProDom to contact their client by text afterwards? 

Stannis leaned against the wall and typed a quick but, he hoped, polite response. 

_I am fine. Our session was completely satisfactory._

Then, because Stannis was Stannis, even when texting the man who’d caned him hard enough to bruise, he added: 

_P.S. It’s ‘fewer’ strikes. Not ‘less’ strikes._

Davos’ response came promptly:

_Put me out of a job, why don’t you? ; )_

Stannis laughed, and froze, mouth half open. Only Shireen and, occasionally, Mel, could get him to laugh. 

Davos texted quickly: 

_Lunchtime session, gotta go. See you next week. Fewer strikes, I promise._

Stannis sat down at his desk, wincing, and considered the phone. He smiled fondly at the corrected grammar. Glancing at the door surreptitiously, Stannis texted back:

_I was hoping for more. You were very kind. I believe I shall require harsher treatment next week._

He waited for ten minutes before he realized that Davos must have left for his lunchtime session, and put his phone away. It had been foolish, Davos was merely checking that a client would be returning for more business, his jokes were nothing but good customer service, attempts to encourage Stannis to return. 

They were working, of course, and Stannis didn’t blame Davos for using them. Davos had a job to do as well.

Stannis shook himself. Work. He had work to do. And his personal life had no place at the office. The company and Chataya’s were separate worlds, and they should remain such. 

It wasn’t until Stannis was packing up to head home for the night that he heard his phone buzz with another text.

Stannis did _not_ scramble for his phone like a desperate teenage girl, because Stannis was calm and composed and not the kind of person who knocked over a plastic cup of water in a frantic search for his phone in the depths of his bag. 

_Sorry for the delay. Booked up all afternoon, only just got to my phone._  
 _I can do harsh if you like._  
 _See you Wedns._

Stannis smiled down at his phone. He walked out of the office smiling. His administrative assistant gave him a wary look. People in the hallways and elevator eyed him in confusion. He was fairly certain that he overheard a couple of accountants speculating that someone had slipped ecstasy into his coffee. 

Stannis wondered how harsh Davos could get. Stannis imagined those strong hands all over him, taking him apart piece by piece, and Davos making him beg for more. 

Wednesday couldn’t come fast enough.

**Author's Note:**

> [](http://imgur.com/e0bPyZ5)   
>  [](http://imgur.com/tabUZwS)   
>  [](http://imgur.com/PwYEUPR)   
> 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Kill of The Night](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1968987) by [MelodyRose (ThatGirlWithTheHairPins)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatGirlWithTheHairPins/pseuds/MelodyRose)




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